


noi male

by Siria



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wants to play hooky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	noi male

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pollitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/gifts).



> Thanks to Cate for betaing!

Steve's been through repeated training sessions at Coronado. He knows how to withstand stress and interrogation, how to push his body to its limits and make his mind continue to think strategically after three days without sleep. He's tested his skills in any number of high-risk, stealth operations. 

He's never been through a training scenario that's anticipated Danny Williams. 

"No, no, because this face here?" Danny's saying, drawing a circle in the air with a fingertip. "You'll forgive me for being a little suspicious of this face."

"Danny," Steve says, squaring his shoulders, "I don't know why you—"

"Oh," Danny says, "you don't know why I'd find this suspicious?" He scratches at the dirty blond stubble along his jawline and squints at Steve. "You don't think I'd find it weird that after a proven track record of being all hoo-ah with the press-ups at five in the morning, showing up at work with a temperature of a 102, every other way you've found of driving me nuts—"

"Danny," Steve says, even though he knows there's no real point when Danny's on a roll.

"—You think that when you turn to me over the breakfast table on a Monday morning and say, 'So I was thinking about playing hooky today, Danno', you think I'm not going to find that a _tad strange_?"

"It's within acceptable behavioural parameters," Steve says, falling back on military speech because treating this like an op is probably the only way he's going to get through it. 

Danny blinks at him. "Acceptable behavioural parameters," he says slowly, as if each syllable is a physical thing to be turned over and savoured in his mouth. "Accept—okay, fine." He throws his hands up in the air. "Playing hooky it is! I will play hooky with you, Steve McGarrett, so help me and the cost of my health insurance co-pay, on condition that you let me shave first and don some pants. A man can't be expected to face secret McGarrett plans without pants."

"That was one time!" Steve yells at him as Danny vanishes up the stairs. "One time!"

Danny's answering yell of "My boxers were on CNN, Steven!" is muffled by the bathroom door.

**********

In the car, Danny drums his fingertips against his thigh and inspects the glove compartment and the spaces underneath the seats. "A regular person would call this paranoia, but knowing you, I have to make sure that this little trip doesn't involve hand grenades, C4, IEDs—" 

"Keep the IEDs in the lockbox in my truck," Steve says, making it through the intersection a good two seconds before the lights turn red. 

"You know," Danny says conversationally, "Ma's started a new set of novenas for me. Says if anyone else has need of St Jude right now…" When Steve just looks at him blankly, he continues, "Patron saint of hopeless cases."

"Aww, Danny," Steve says, grinning, "you're not hopeless."

**********

They're just leaving the diner—Danny lulled, if not entirely reassured, by a stack of pancakes slathered in a sweet mess of syrup and fresh berries—when Steve gets a text from Chin. 

_pomaika'i, brah. driving kono nuts. convinced you're on a top secret mission_.

Which isn't so far from the truth, Steve thinks. His thumb hovers over the screen for a second, debating if he should reply, before he sticks the phone back in his pocket. Whatever happens, Kono's going to have plenty of stuff to talk about come tomorrow morning. 

He gets back on the road, threads through the last of the rush hour traffic and points the car in the direction of Moanalua. It's only minutes from downtown, but every time he comes here, Steve feels like he's entering another world. The valley's technicolour bright, and when they get out of the car, a brisk breeze carries the scent of rich soil after the rain. He breathes in deep before saying, "C'mon, let's take this trail over here."

"Whoa, wait, what, hold on," Danny says, "you wanted to play hooky so we could go _hiking_? Back in the place with the dead fish guy, you remember, that time you almost plummeted to your _death_? Are you kidding me? Hey!" 

It's exactly the kind of protest Steve was expecting Danny to make, but there's no real heat behind it—Danny's not that upset and he's following him, so Steve just grins to himself and keeps going. 

They don't head for the summit ridgeline this time—though one day Steve's going to get Danny up the Haiku Stairs, share that view with him—or even up to some of the best petroglyph sites. They don't have the equipment, and besides, Steve only wants to call up the memories of the better part of the last time they were here together. They hike into the valley for half an hour or so, until they're surrounded by the great cradling curve of the mountains and Steve feels that weird shiver down his spine, that still-unfamiliar feeling of being able to linger in places that are important to him. 

Danny's mostly quiet as they walk, which doesn't do much for Steve's nerves—generally, when Danny's quiet, it bodes—but every time Steve glances over at him, Danny looks calm. 

"You okay?" Steve asks when they reach the halfway point.

Danny spreads his hands. "I have achieved a zen state, my friend. I'm not going to force an explanation out of you, and if I should refuse to go along and give up one of my sick days for a mere woodland stroll, well, then I'd have to watch you sulk—"

"I don't sulk!" Steve says, appalled.

"You get these little crinkles between your eyebrows," Danny says, gesturing. "Not that it's not cute, babe, but those are the days you tend to start ironing your underwear and a man shouldn't have starch near his bits, it's just wrong."

There's no come back that Steve can make to that that won't get them thrown out of a park for being disorderly, so Steve holds his tongue and keeps walking. Another ten minutes and, with the morning sun warm on the back of his neck, Steve thinks they've reached a good stopping point—a low, flat ridge of land with the grass soft under his feet and a spectacular view in every direction. 

"This is it?" Danny says, turning in a slow circle. "No petroglyphs, no dead bodies, no crime rings you want us to bust while we're out here?"

Steve has a speech prepared, the product of long morning runs spent with nothing but the rhythm of his feet against the ground and the churning of the words in his head, but now that it's come time for it, it's all gone. Steve's memorised town layouts and weapons schematics, recalled them perfectly when under enemy fire, but in the face of Danny's sceptical eyebrows, he's got nothing. Wordlessly, he reaches out and snags one of Danny's wrists, tugs gently so that Danny's palm is facing upwards. Steve takes a deep breath and then, with his free hand, pulls his Academy ring out of his pocket and places it in Danny's hand. 

Danny looks down at it, frowning. "Your class ring?"

"You don't have to wear it," Steve says. He looks down at the ring, because it's safer than meeting Danny's gaze right now. He clears his throat. "I mean, maybe you don't want to at all, but if you do… I thought it could be a sign, but it wouldn't be..." He swallows. Danny still hasn't said anything. This was a dumb idea. 

"Hey," Danny says gently. "Hey, look at me, here. Steven."

Steve looks up. The frown's gone from Danny's face, but he's not smiling, either—he's considering, focused, like he gets when he's weighing up the evidence from a case. 

"I think I'm going to have to write a letter to these SEAL buddies of yours, ask them where they came up with this whole Smooth Dog thing from," Danny says dryly. "Because if it was for any reason other than irony…"

Steve flinches. "Danny—"

"Are you trying to ask me a question?" Danny says, his tone conversational now. "Because if you're trying to ask me a question, if there's a really important reason why you got me out here this morning, you have to actually vocalise it."

Okay, Steve thinks a little wildly. Okay. There's no going back now—there's a feeling in the pit of his stomach like the one he gets when he's just about to do a HALO jump, adrenaline keeping him poised on the borderline right between fight and flight—and so he squares his shoulders and says, "Marry me?"

The smile that spreads across Danny's face is as bright and clear as anything else in the valley. "Playing hooky?" he says. "Really, that's the cover story you went with?"

Steve shrugs. "I didn't know how else to get you back up here, and it's exactly a year today."

Danny cocks an eyebrow. "Since you fell off that cliff?"

Steve lets go of Danny's hand and sketches out a heart in the air. "Since that." Since Steve first knew for sure. 

"You," Danny says, jabbing a finger at Steve, "are not doing such a good job at hiding that you've got a marshmallow for a heart, you know." He looks down at the ring, still balanced in the palm of his hand, and deliberately closes his fingers around it. 

Steve feels his heart jump in his chest. "Is that a—"

"Yes," Danny says, and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see pictures of the Haiku Stairs hike that Steve refers to [at this link](http://www.unrealhawaii.com/2011/07/moanalua-saddle-to-haiku-stairs/). Something tells me that he'll have to be _very_ persuasive in order to get Danny up there.


End file.
